


Just Breathe

by with_beauty



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: F/M, Podfic Welcome, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4311243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/with_beauty/pseuds/with_beauty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Citadel needs some repairs</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with the general idea for this a couple of days ago and I just HAD to write it.
> 
> I am neither mechanically nor medically inclined so there's likely going to be mistakes with those parts. Hopefully it's enjoyable anyways!!
> 
>  
> 
> (The name Jammer is borrowed from The Length and Breadth of Fury Road, which is definitely one of the best fics here in my opinion. Go check it out!)

She knew that this was bound to happen. There was no way the pumps were going to last forever, especially in this world of rusted bolts and scrap metal. Eventually one was going to break, and she and the Sisters had prepared for it to happen, scouring both the books in the Vault and the manuals they found in old Joe’s quarters.

She just wishes it hadn’t happened now. Now, when Max had just returned again. She can’t prove to him how well they had been managing since he last saw them if things keep breaking. (Not that she has anything to prove. She just wanted to show him that it had all been worth it.)

When the War Pup who came to give the report finishes, she just sighs and stands up from the table in the mess hall. She was halfway through a pleasant midday meal with the Sisters and Max, but it would have to wait.

“Alright. Let’s get this fixed fast.”

Capable’s hand shoots out to catch her wrist.

“Furiosa.” Her eyes are wide. “Should we tell the others?”

Furiosa shakes her head sharply. “No sense in scaring everyone. We prepared for this, remember? It’ll only be a few minutes.”

Max hums in agreement and gets to his feet. Furiosa frowns slightly.

“Why don’t you stay here, Max? Rest up,” she says.

He looks down at his feet quickly and then back up at her face.

“I can help.”

She sighs again. “Alright. C’mon.”

As she turns and walks out into the corridor, she can hear his boots shuffling along behind her. She turns slightly to look over her shoulder and jerks her head at him that he should come walk alongside her. She tries not to smile when he follows her silent orders, knowing that smiles sometimes make him feel uncomfortable.

“You’re a blackthumb, right?”

Max nods slightly.

“Maybe you will be able to help after all.”

After a second, his lips quirk up a fraction. Furiosa lets herself chuckle just a little.

Just before they reach the stairs, a War Boy steps into their path. He holds out a tattered booklet to Furiosa.

“Thought you might want this, boss,” he says, eyes downcast.

She takes it. It’s the main pump manual. She smiles approvingly at the Boy.

“Thanks Jammer.”

The Boy looks up quickly, apparently startled that she knows his name, then bows as they walk away.

Furiosa lifts a burning torch out of its holder at the entrance to the stairs and pauses for a second, looking at Max.

“It’s pretty tight in here. You good?” She’s never quite sure what he’s comfortable with and what he’s not, so she likes to check before they do something or go somewhere new.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Not claustrophobic or nothing.”

She nods and starts making her way down to the water reservoir. As they descend the tightly spiraling staircase, she hands the manual and torch back to Max.

“You might want to have a look at this,” she tells him. “There’s plenty of time to read it. It’s a pretty long way to the bottom.”

They descend the rest of the way in silence; the only noises the rustle of the booklet’s pages and the guttering of the torch. Eventually, the air turns cold and clammy, and they’re deposited onto the ledge of a huge pool of water. The surface of the water is unnaturally still and the air silent without the pump on to disturb the water as it sucks it up to distribute throughout the Citadel.

The pump itself sits out in the middle of the reservoir, only accessible by a narrow catwalk that stretches out from the doorway in which Furiosa and Max now stand. Even with the torch held high, the light only barely reaches their destination.

Furiosa steps forward cautiously, mindful of the catwalk’s edges.

“Be careful,” she warns Max. “This thing tends to be slippery.”

He hums in response, carefully shuffling after her. They make their way slowly across the expanse of smooth water to the small ledge circling the pump. The massive motor is encased in a metal box; the access door screwed on tight. Furiosa pulls a screwdriver from one of the pockets of the cargo pants she’s taken to wearing and hands it to Max.

“I’ll hold the torch. You get to work.”

Max’s mouth quirks again, just briefly. (She wishes she could make him smile more often.)

He makes short work of the screws holding the door on and lifts it off, placing it carefully on the catwalk behind them so it won’t get in the way. Furiosa crouches down next to him to light the interior of the engine better. He studies the workings carefully, grunting and mumbling as he looks from the motors to the manual and back.

“Don’t see anything here,” he says finally. “Any other doors on the sides?”

“There should be,” Furiosa nods.

Max stands swiftly and starts to shuffle around the corner of the ledge.

“Wait, Max, be care—”

He’s turning back at the sound of her voice when she sees him lose his footing on the edge of the narrow shelf. He tips over backwards, arms pinwheeling, and lands with a huge splash in the water.

She’s on her knees in an instant, her pants getting drenched as water slops up over the side of the ledge. She holds the torch up high for a long, terrible moment, desperately scanning the now-rippling water.

Suddenly, Max resurfaces, just out of arm’s reach.

“Max!” she calls. He bobs quietly for one second, two, mouth gasping, before slipping under again.

“MAX!” she screams.

The ripples begin to subside, leaving the water horribly still again. Furiosa leans as far out over the edge as she dares, but sees nothing. Quickly, she throws down the torch and sucks in a deep breath. She’d swum during her childhood in the Green Place; she’s certain she remembers how. Without any further hesitation, she hurls herself into the water.

It’s excruciatingly cold, so cold that she unconsciously almost gasps before catching herself and forcing her lips to stay closed. She dives deep, unable to really see anything by the feeble light of the torch, reaching out blindly for Max with her flesh hand and ineffectively trying to swim with her metal one. Too soon, her lungs begin to burn, and she’s forced to return to the surface. Cursing her lack of two real hands, she allows herself two deep gasps before diving back down. She knows it’s been too long. There’s no way someone would be able to hold their breath for this long, especially if they didn’t know how to swim.

Furiosa pushes herself deeper and deeper, reaching out desperately for a hand, a foot, anything that she can hold onto. Just as she begins to think she’ll have to head to the surface again, her fingers brush against the rough fabric of a pant leg. She immediately grabs a handful and heaves upwards. Her prosthetic does little to help propel her to the surface, and she can feel the air trying to escape her lungs. She kicks frantically with her legs, vision whiting out at the edges, and breaks the surface just as her breath forces itself out of her mouth.

Panting and spluttering, she drags Max the rest of the way up and cradles his head in her metal hand so that she’ll be able to swim back over to the catwalk. She hauls herself up over the lip, pulling Max after her.

“Max?” She shakes him a little. “Max, can you hear me?” 

He doesn’t respond. His face is pale and his lips look blueish in the weak torchlight. Furiosa can barely quiet her own heartbeat as she leans over to check for his, pressing her ear against his chest. She hears nothing.

“Fuck!” she shouts. The word echoes around the cavernous room. “Max, don’t do this!”

Frantically, she places the heal of her palm in the center of his chest and braces it with her metal hand, trying to remember what Noreis, the Vuvalini woman who now works in the med bay, taught her. Now that they were trying to save lives instead of waste them, the woman was giving Furiosa lessons on healing.

Taking a steadying breath, Furiosa begins compressing Max’s chest in a steady rhythm. After thirty compressions, she pauses, listening to his chest again.

“C’mon, Max! You can’t do this to me!”

Tilting his head back, she opens his mouth and places hers against it. She pushes air into his chest twice and quickly sits back, searching his face for signs of life. He’s still deathly pale.

“FUCK!” she screams, placing her hands back on his chest and renewing her compressions. “BREATHE, MAX! BREATHE!”

Letting out a desperate scream, she raises her metal arm over the man stretched out below her and punches him straight over his heart.

His body jerks slightly and he comes awake with a strangled gasp, a torrent of water immediately flooding from his mouth. Furiosa helps hold him up over the reservoir, shaking and coughing, while the water pours out of his mouth for a frightening amount of time. Finally, it ends, and he lies back again, panting.

Staring blearily up at her, he reaches up to place a hand against her jaw, resting it there. He hums quietly, and the sound is so scratchy and raw that Furiosa doubts he’d be able to talk even if he wanted to. She exhales shakily, brushing the wet hair off his forehead.

“Don’t you ever make me do that again,” she says.

(She’ll never tell him how scared she was, but she figures he can already tell.)


End file.
